


comburo

by asweetdepravity



Category: Richard Armitage/Lee Pace - Fandom, Richlee - Fandom
Genre: AU, Addiction, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drug Use, M/M, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweetdepravity/pseuds/asweetdepravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things that are chance and also destiny. </p>
<p>Made up of dreams, as much as nightmares. </p>
<p>Given.</p>
<p>Taken.</p>
<p>Taken away.<br/> <br/>There are beginnings. </p>
<p>And there are endings that have been written as soon as they begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FOREWORD

**Author's Note:**

> Richard starring as Dolarhyde started all these. I haven't decided if I want to really attach this to the Hannibal/Red Dragon universe. We'll just have to see how it goes and how this muse plays out.
> 
> P/s: I suck at writing summaries, I'm sorry. D:

_“I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair._ _Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets._ _Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps._

_I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest,_ _hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,_   _I want to eat your skin like a whole almond._

_I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.”_

_\- Pablo Neruda_

* * *

 

 

He's always aware when it happens. The cacophony falls behind; his ears buzzing with white noise. Ringing. Hollow. People fade into shadow, faces and bodies sucked under. And red, so much red. Luminiscent bulb trails under the surface of the skin. There- pulsing and alive. There- for his taking.

He wants to be quick, but _he's_  always faster. Iron on the back of his tongue, inside his mouth. Whispers, eloquent sentences, luring him into the crowd. His feet want to back off, but he cannot. _He's_ already in the driver's seat, a sweet mocking voice telling him he wants this.

A sea of abundance and nothingness.

A mouth opening to speak- _look away, don't make eye contact. Don't-_ but he does.

He does not want this, _he_ wants this. 

He wants this. 

It's not him. It's _him_. 

He's no longer certain. 

Eye contact. A voice. _Another voice._ His feet stop and all his senses come rushing back. It's temporal, he knows. The man speaking to him right now, should know better.  

"... could do in exchange."

He gauges the wear and age in the man's hoodie, bony knobs of his knees underneath a scraggly pair of jeans. Dirt underneath his fingernails, caught in the creases of his skin. A greasy tousle of brown hair matted to sallow cheeks. A transient on the streets. Chewed and spat back out by society. So easy to pass by... So easy, to forget. 

"You gonna take the offer o'what?"  

"What offer?" The words come before he allows it.

"Money?" The man looks at him like he's speaking a foreign tongue all together. But then again he _is_ not from here. _He doesn't belong._  "Okay..." The man pauses, raking a shaky hand through his hair, dislodging the hood from its place. "I'll blow you for money, or a line." 

His attention is drawn to his face, the curious shade of his eyes. A dusky hue of greys and blues. Ill-defined, like the swirl and frizz of the beard plastered and gauntness of his face that hid the shape of his lips. A mouth like a Cupid's bow- a mouth that would look so much better from the view between his legs.  

' _You want this.'_

_'No. You. You want this.'_ He argues.  

A lilting chuckle. _'He's not for me. But you- you want this.'_

_'No.'_

_'Take it. You want it, take it. We have the power... You have the power.'_

He thinks _he's_ lying, as always. Pushing him with the ruse of power. He does not want this. The power is not his- "Come with me," and he turns on his heels, a raucous laughter ringing in his head. It's done, as it has been done before. _Again._

"Wait-"

For a split second he's convinced it doesn't work, that the man isn't desperate enough to follow him. Then shuffling of feet comes from behind, and next to him; a rattling exhale of breath.

"Where are we going?"

He glances at him out of the corners of his eyes, mildly taken aback when he does not look away. He drags his gaze away, fixing his sight ahead and leading them to his car. "I don't take blowjobs on the street." 


	2. ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comburo (Latin)
> 
> To burn up/away;  
> To destroy (with fire);  
> To reduce to ash;  
> To cremate;  
> To ruin;
> 
> To consume.

The man trails into the house after him, the padding of worn sneakers following the click of his heels across the marble floor. He takes in the surroundings in almost childlike wonderment; wide eyed and open mouthed. He leads them past the living room and feels the collision of his chest against his back, even before he hears the man swear-

_"Shit!"_

He's already turned around, grip on the man's waist; preventing the tangle of long limbs from taking them both to the ground. _Too close-_ they're too close. He can taste the salt on his skin, smell the staleness of alcohol and drugs from his lips. Blue-grey eyes and the flutter of surprisingly long lashes. 

The man backs away first, shocked at their proximity and too conscious of his own state of being. 

"F-fuck- sorry. I was just-" His eyes shift towards the door that caught his attention and almost caused their tumble. "Uh- that," he makes a weak gesture. 

"Basement."

"Right," he huffs out a laugh. "There's _always_ a basement. Why do I have a feeling that you're going to kill me after this?" 

He frowns, jaw tightening on instinct. "Maybe I am?" _Three seconds._ That's all it usually takes. Three seconds for the fear to settle in. The running would come next, and then the thrill of the hunt. The rush of blood to his head as he would go after him, subjugate him. _Bring him to his knees. Lay force. Gag him, maybe-_

It never comes. He doesn't run. 

"Ahh... I should never have allowed a stranger to take me home." He laughs, shoulders quaking- a response that takes him by surprise. "A well dressed stranger, no less." 

_He's_ surprised too. He can hear it, the little _'oh?'_ inside his head. 

"So what now?" The man probes, "Do I get my fix, or do I suck you off first?"

_'Interesting...'_

He takes a deep breath to compose himself, shoving _him_ back inside before he speaks. "Clean up. There's everything you need in the bathroom." 

"Oh!" the man offers him a self-deprecating smile. "This is an awful look for sex," he laughs, swiping sweat matted palms across the fabric of his jeans. "There?" he points the door at the far end and receives a nod in return. He gets there and rids himself of his tattered shoes and socks, pausing to turn around just before he shuts the door. "Do I get to know your name or will it just be _Handsome English Stranger_?"

The other man remains still for a couple of seconds, before a loud breath leaves his lips. "Go, take all the time you need," he turns, feet in the direction of his bedroom and hears the man call after him. 

"Uh... Hey!" 

_It's the man he brought home._

"It's Lee, by the way." 

 

_The stranger._

_Not anymore-_

_A name._

_Lee._

 

He's not fond of names. The others never given them, and he never asked. It would all start the same way and end the same way. _Hands, touch, bodies, control, pleasure, cum, and then red. It always ended in red._ Feathers plucked, limbs twisted, wings burnt.

In dirt and in soil. 

_There was no need for names._

 

He sits with his head in his hands, stares at the reflection in the mirror. Pale blue eyes staring back at him. A very long time ago, he too had a name- forgotten and buried from the day _he_ surfaced. Now he's just flesh and bone- muscle and mass. 

_There was no need to name a ghost._

There's a warmth on his shoulder and he stands up bolt, reflexes acting faster than rational. He sees in flashes the color of rust, feels the collision in his bones. Against the wall, he pins his prey, tightening his hold. Feels the panic bleed from his fingertips; the twisting and flailing of limbs- right to the center of his being. 

_Control, control, control._

It always gets too loud before it slows down. The mad thrumming of _life_ ,  _mortality, strength._ The rush of a tidal wave receeding into stillness, an ocean of _blue and grey_ swallowed up by a blooming darkness. 

_Man._

_Stranger._

He's empowered, renewed. 

_Born again._

 

There's still too much noise, voices in his head, thoughts and disconnected images. _Too much. Too much._ He needs to be quiet, needs it to stop. The ocean must never break into the shore, the hues of twilight must give in to black. _Eventually. Eventually-_

He vaguely registers the pain, the dying struggle of fingernails digging into his side, bone against his knee. _Stop. It's too much-_ Thenext thing he knows, stumbling over the floorboards, his back hitting the ground with a thud. Everything slows down to a crawl, he harsh sound of his own breath ringing in his ears. _It does not die. The ocean takes the shore._

_Something else. There's someone else._ He blinks the figure to focus- bare on his hands and knees, skin still moist from the bath. _His bath- Lee._ Face and neck flushed, eyes wide and reddened. He's coughing, gasping, a helpless fawn struggling on his limbs, chest expanding with each sputtering inhale of air. _Of Life._

Lee's eyes dart back and forth towards him. He's angled away, back pressed so hard against the wall, like it could open up and swallow him whole in some kind of escape- _a means to an end._ He's failed where he shouldn't have- perhaps it was not time, perhaps it was not Lee's time.  _Perhaps, perhaps it's just Lee..._ His own thoughts drip with poison. 

He gets on his feet, yanks Lee up by the arm. "You shouldn't have done that." 

_It gets the better of him, it always gets the better of him._

Lee tears at his grip, shoves at him weakly, "F-fuck," he rasps, voice hoarse and trembling slightly, still reeling from the ordeal. 

He waits for the line to be crossed

"A warning would be nice,  _Jesus-_ Any other weird kinks I need to know about? Issues?" There's something other than the flighty panic from before, something else in his eyes. _Fear- no, fascination too._ And for the first time in a long while, _he_  doesn't take over- _the tipping point doesn't come_  and he's helpless. 

 

_Issues?_ He has plenty. _Too dark, too secret._ There's this voice in his head and then a very real problem of the stranger he brought home to fuck. _This_   _Lee-_ toeing his boundaries and strangely unafraid. 

"Get up," he sighs. "Not here." 

"Right," Lee scrambles to his feet, voice still raw, "the basement then." He turns to glare at him, both annoyed and exasperated at the tone of his voice. Lee seems to be pleased with his reaction, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. "Just one thing," Lee stops when he opens the door, "I still think I deserve to know the name of the person who's going to fuck and murder me." He doesn't budge, arms folded across his chest, lingering at the top of the stairs. "Come on, it's _just a name._ " 

_There wasn't a need for names._

 

_"Red._ "

"What?"

"If it is of such importance, you may call me Red." 

"I guess an alias is better than nothing," Lee quirks an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders as he passes him. 

 

The door shuts behind them. 

 

_The drugs must have fucked him up in more ways than one._

_Brave._

_Brave and foolish._

* * *

 

Lee comes to a halt when an arm grazes his cheek in the dark, Red looming behind him to flick a light switch. His feet meets the marble floor and the basement comes to life in a wash of white light. He notices the obvious things first; two cabinets, a stack of drawers, scrubbed-down washbasin, electronic heater near a bed; thin mattress, white sheets, metal frame. And then the little things... He brings his fingers to the wall, tracing them; dust free, pristine- just like the rest of the house. A maniac, surgical order.  _Cold;_ he can almost taste the bitterness of disinfectant on his tongue. 

Red slips past him, lips pulled into a tight smile. He's _different_. There's a surety to his steps, chest and shoulders drawn back in confidence. He's proud of this; _this little set up, this space underneath his house._ Red busies himself at the drawers and Lee settles himself onto the bed, warning bells going off in his head mixed with mild amusement. 

 

_A lone house next to nowhere-_ Check.

 

_The long drive in-_ Check.

 

_Basement; door possibly locked-_ Check. 

 

_Stranger-_ Check. 

 

_And what did his parents tell him about strangers?_ Then again, if he had listened to them, he would never have ended up where he was. He was never really bright when it came to his life choices. And the men, especially the handsome, troubled ones. The ones that were most likely to leave him (literally) high and dry. _The ones that felt the most dangerous._

"What's so funny?" The bed dips with Red's weight and Lee's thoughts scatter away. He hadn't realized he was laughing. 

"No- it's just..." He makes a gesture to the small row of windows above the sink. "At least I won't suffocate down here." Red frowns, and for a moment Lee thinks he catches a flash of pain. But it's gone too soon, his attention drawn to the thick wad of metal resting on Red's lap. Chains and cuff, and the E in a little plastic saucer to his left. He smiles, "Those are for me huh?" 

Red doesn't say a word, choosing to respond with a white-knuckled grip around the chains, keeping his eyes fixed on Lee. Eyes that he realizes now, are a startling shade of blue, caught in the shadow of fine, long lashes. Eyes that are deathly in their determination to possess. _And yet, afraid._

Lee sucks in a breath, and exhales slowly. "Alright then loverboy," He works his smile to widen, untangles his fingers from the nervous bundle and leans back. "Wrist or ankle?" 

Red's gaze flickers downwards, trailing over ankle, calves and thighs. Lee looks away, suddenly hyper-aware of his own nakedness. The vulnerabilty of being so exposed. Every fibre in his being knows that this is madness. The man with him, has more than the obvious skeletons in his closet; monsters, demons.  _It's reckless and it's suicide._ But Lee isn't, never was in a position to bargain. Between the freezing cold of the streets and locked up in a basement; for him, it was still the short end of the straw. 

_The lesser of two evils._

Red sets the chain aside, takes the pill between his index and thumb. Large hands, calloused at the knobs, yet soft; find their way to his thighs, easing them apart slowly. Lee allows himself the temporal illusion of comfort, gives in to the sensory pleasure, the growing shiver travelling up his spine. 

_It's okay, for now. It's okay._

Red slithers into the space between his legs, voice a grainy whisper when he speaks. "Open up." 

Lee lets his mouth fall open, breath hitching when Red's drags a thumb over his bottom lip. The pill is placed on his tongue with such care and affection that Lee has to fight the urge to laugh. Because this, _this is anything but._ Red leans back to watch him. _Study him._  He's a fly trapped in a looking-glass, the spoils of a hunt. Caged and at his will. 

_Soon- soon, it will all be better,_ he tells himself. A lie told so often, it becomes truth-  _it will all be better._

He swallows dry. 

 


	3. TWO

Lee always knows when it hits him. He spends his time counting the minutes, the seconds.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Forty-five sometimes, a lot shorter today.

_Thirty? Probably. Maybe._

 

_Tick._

_Tock._

 

_Tick-_

 

_Aah,_ there it is. The familiar buzz underneath his skin- _the rush of the high._

Red is there when he opens his eyes, reaching for him. Lee feels it- _welcomes it_ ; the warmth of the man's palm seeping into his skin.

Red gives his thigh a tentative squeeze, "Are we good?" Lee's answer is a breathless string of giggles. The molly always making him find too much humor in everything. It's the choice of Red's words, the _honest_ sincerity in his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, we're good."

The metal meets his wrist, cold as it snaps shut. He watches Red with as much attention as he can muster, watches as he slips to the floor and brings the other end of the chain around a wrought iron handle- crudely screwed and bolted to the floor. There are scratch marks, indents, age and clear signs of someone else's struggle. Red rises to his feet, locks the clasp and puts away the key. Lee toys with the idea of the stories he was fed as a child- thinks of dungeons, monsters and fire-breathing dragons. He laughs, voice cracking and head drooping back. He knows Red's sight is fixed on him. And he knows there would be no chilvarious ending to this tale; no heroes, only one prisoner in chains- and he's _It_.

"On your knees."

The only difference is that he allows this- pulls and drags his drug-numbed limbs to function. _Naked and on fours,_ in such contrary to the man in front of him; pristinely dressed, white shirt tucked into well-pressed pants. Socks still pulled over his feet. The chains are yanked, and Lee complies by sliding sweat matted hands up his captor's thighs, working his belt off; pants around his ankles. Lee gauges him; the falling open of his mouth, the quick flutter of his lashes as he cups a palm over the swell in his briefs. Feels the steady shudder that runs down Red's body, the catch in his breath. The slow bop of his adam's apple as he swallows.

He squeezes along the warmth of his shaft and Red makes a sound, a low rumble of pleasure cracking beneath the surface. Lee does it again, more firmly, bringing his lips down and mouthing kisses over the fabric, until Red fully hardens; heartbeat thrumming against his lips.

"Enough-" he growls, grabbing Lee's hair and yanking his head backwards, asserting his role in a show of dominance. He tugs his briefs down, "suck".

Lee's eyes flit to meet his- _a second too long_ before that mouth, that pretty mouth wraps around the head of his cock. He throws his head back at the burn, Lee takes him all the way in, tongue tucked along the length of his shaft. He jerks his hips forwards, not letting go of his leverage on the man as he fucks into the wet, hot heat of his mouth.

Whether it was the drugs or not, good would be an understatement. Lee was unabashedly _skilled_ \- seeming to know exactly what he wanted, dropping lower and craning his neck to allow Red more access- _deeper, harsher._ Red hauls him closer, hand at the back of his neck and Lee moans, shudders and gives him more. He thinks about how many men he'd done to get to this, how many times he must have gotten away with what he wanted- _back bent and deceptively pliant._ Red must be one of them, but he does not want to remain. He wants _control_ , he wants him. He wants that look to stop, the lure from beneath hooded lids and beating lashes. He wants Lee's eyes squeezed shut, copper tinged at the rims. He wants to feel him gag, throat constricting around the girth of his cock. He wants- he wants _everything_.

_Make him, bend him and break him._

" _More..._ " Red stumbles against the bed, idle hand gripping the sheets. Lee chokes out a sound, something between a protest and a groan. He jerks his head back, barely able to fill his lungs with air before Red sinks his fingers into his hair, thrusts into his mouth _again- and again._

A gratifying heat spreads from his abdomen, white seeping in behind his lids. Lee's breaths stuttering against him. He doesn't care for it, What Lee wants- he's being here was to serve this. _His will, his pleasure; his fire._

He doesn't care-

Lee's unrestrained hand slips into the space between his legs, fingers ghosting across his perineum to cup his balls. Red gasps, eyes flying wide as Lee gives him a gentle tug. He regrets it the instant their eyes meet, because Lee's eyes are tear-stained red, _tear-stained, earnest and willing._ Lee pulls back a slight, releasing him with a small pop, teeth grazing the swollen vein. _He shouldn't care-_ Lee tugs at his balls again, _he really shouldn't-_ rolls them around in cusp of his hand and inhales. Sharp and deep, not breaking their gaze.

His orgasm comes like a kick in the gut. All breath and strength wrenched out of him. He feels the gag and hum from Lee's chest as he closes in on him. He knows he shouldn't but he does, tottering backwards, head light and body buzzing. He runs a hand through Lee's hair down to his nape, coaxing him to let go. But Lee jerks him closer, hand moving from his balls to his shaft, milking him, tasting him. _Every last bit of him._

"F-fuck." Red lets go, slumping to the ground as he pulls away from Lee.

"Come on..." Lee slurs, wrapping clumsy hands over his cock. "Jus- fuckin' come on..." The restrain is pulled taut, metal clasp bearing down on his wrist. Scathing blotches of red and purple.

Red bites down a hiss, trembling from the onset of oversensitivity. "Stop- Christ-"

Lee makes a keening sound and shakes his head, rolls his hips forward in search for his own release. He ruts against Red's thigh, nonchalant to the ache in his arm as he works on stroking him to full hardness again. _It's not enough-_ barely scratching the surface of the itch. _Crave_ \- the high always makes him crave; contact and heat, the pipe dream of intimacy. He wants all of those, all of those things he does not have. _He needs to feel more, have more._

"Red..." Lee leans in for his lips and misses, laving a sloppy trail along his jaw and neck. " _Red_ ," he mouths against the thrum of his pulse and with more purpose, "fuck me."

 

' _Take it.'_

The voice in there again, a pounding on the base of his head.

_'Take him.'_

_'Make him desire you.'_

_'Make him beg.'_

_'Make him yours...'_

 

_'And then, break him.'_

Red scoffs at his offer, somehow he doesn't think it's _that_ easy.

 

' _You're a fool if you don't.'_

_'Or are you afrai-'_

 

"No!"

The argument is made vocal, but Lee doesn't realize; too caught up in his own high. "I- I'm not afraid."

' _Then do it! Show him what we're capable of!'_

He laughs- _We?_ The ache spreads to his eyes and Red scrubs at his forehead, the sting of tears under his lids. He needs it to stop.

_'No.. You.'_

_'Show him what you're capable of.'_

 

_It has to stop._

 

Its fragmented- one moment he's still on the floor. The next he's on the bed, Lee pinned underneath him. Calloused hands map a path on Lee's thighs, feeling the jerk and shudder run under the man's skin as he pushes his legs apart and crooks his index between that space.

"Comeon..." Lee whines, responding with a restless fidget, bearing his weight down against Red's touch.

But the pleasure would belong to only one of them. Red grabs Lee by his hair, thick brown locks and yanks his head back. Hissing a warning into the long column of Lee's throat. " _Watch yourself._ " Lee lets out a surprised yelp, cut short and snatched away as Red shoves him hard against the bed.

Knees bent and face down. Just as it should be. _Nameless. Faceless_. Like the many others before him, like those that would come after.

Red grips Lee by the waist, and snaps his hips forward, feeling the last shreds of self-awareness seep away with each thrust. He's bleeding out from the inside, a slow fire rising; adrenalin. Until there is none, no more of himself.

Only a hunter and his prey.

 

_Sacrifice._

 

_Lamb._

 

_God._

 

* * *

 

Red always knows when he goes away. The denseness of air shifting, becoming breathable as the fog in his vision clears. He can move again, hear again- the sound of his own breathing, harsh and heavy. _Feel again_. He's on the floor, legs sprawled out before him, pants and briefs at his ankles. His stomach is sticky, streaked with remnants of half-dried cum. His hands- he wills his fingers to move, watching them jerk back to life. Someone's toe is prodding his cheek- Red snaps his head in that direction, back colliding against the rickety bed frame. He howls, hisses at the pain, a tremor running through his body.

"Woah- relax..."

_Who's speaking?_

"Relax, I won't try to eat you." A lilting, breathy chuckle, "though I can't say the same for you."

Red tries to put the pieces together, connect the dots. Sidewalk. Stranger. Car. House. Basement. _Victim- **Lee**._  

"Fuck-" He tries to get off the floor, legs failing him on the first attempt. "Fuckin..." He tries again, gaining more control the second time. He hoists himself up, palms pressed against the mattress. The bed is in a sorry state, the pillow is on the floor, sheets wrung out from underneath, twisted in bunches beneath Lee's gangly frame. Lee himself looks worse for wear; bruises, alarming blotches of purple and red scattered across his calves, thighs. There are nail marks on his hips, where Red gripped him. Held him down and fucked him. _And there, and there,_ one on his left thigh, one at the side of his rib, one near his shoulder- still bleeding, the ugly red welts of teeth marks.

"Has anyone told you, you're incredibly angry in bed?"

Red jerks his head up at the sound, and Lee cocks up a brow as their eyes meet.

Most would be shaking.

Crying.

Begging.

_-He's not afraid._

"Why?" The words tumble out of his lips before he can stop it.

Lee shrugs, wincing as he twists his arm; trying to work an angle around the iron cuff at his wrist. Red flinches, feels it more than he sees it. The lack of personal space and the scutiny of Lee's gaze. It goes to his bones, wringing out a rattling breath that escapes his throat. Lee seems oblivious to his discomfort, arm pulled ever so taut behind his back as he scoots closer. _So close-_ he can smell the sex between his legs. _Oh god, the sex._

By instinct Red pulls back; a lifetime of muscle-memory driving him inwards, back into his shell. Lee stops him, idle hand in a light grip around his forearm. "What. You're just gonna leave now?"

_Don't touch me,_ he thinks. _Don't touch me so freely._ And yet he stares long and hard at Lee's hand, fixated on the flex and movement of those long digits, the press and nudge of knuckles underneath whitened skin. Red shuts his eyes; there is no force in the way Lee's hand lingers, only warmth. _So much warmth._

Red breaks away, pushing Lee's hand aside as he stands and retreats. Slinking further away; until the doorknob is pressed to his back- he has to. He pulls the door open and Lee bursts out laughing. "That's it?! N-no post-coital shit? You're just gonna leave me here?" The amusement in Lee's eyes fade, his laughter dissolving into wheezing howls. He pounds his spare fist into the mattress and fights his bonds. "Fuck you!" he spits, eyes flaring.

 

_Focus_.

Red shuts the door behind him.  _Focus_ - hands are bunched into fists, nails digging in deep enough to break skin- indents into welts.  _Focus..._

And then he feels it, a resonance; a _murmur_. The stirring of something... _something_ , so faint it barely registers.

_Thump- thump- thump-_

So much noise. A different kind of noise- he doesn't understand.

_So, so much noise._

His feet are not his own. He wills them to move, but they're planted firm to the ground, his back still pressed against the door. He doesn't move.

He cannot move.

 

_"Red..."_

 

_"A-ah... Fuck-"_

  

It becomes loud, ever growing until it reaches his ears, burning behind them. Red presses a hand over his left, the foreign feeling that quakes in his hollow of his chest.

 

The mad beating of his heart.


End file.
